The Ghost Of A Smile
by greyslostwho
Summary: There's not enough drunk Harry in the world. First SW fanfic. Oneshot. Nikki/Harry, of course.


**First Silent Witness fic.**

He's not exactly sure how he ended up in this cab, thinks probably the bartender called it for him – he's been drinking all afternoon. He says it's because it's been one hell of a week, because the case tore them all down, because Nikki and Leo had been held at gunpoint, because four children had died. However, in his reality, it was Nikki's admission that morning this morning that was ringing in his mind.

"_I'm pretty sure I could fall for this guy, Harry."_

So he was drinking, and he wasn't sure he wanted to admit why, even to himself. Paul Kingsley, Nikki's new man, he'd come across once or twice in his career – he worked in toxicology, but he wasn't the usual boring stereotype. Paul was tall, fair-haired and handsome, and indefinitely charming. And a complete whore, in Harry's opinion. He'd heard the _locker-room talk_ as such, and he'd been lucky enough last week to head up to toxicology to check on the progress of some results and get a full blow-by-blow account of Paul's date with a 'completely fuckable leggy blonde', who had later turned out to be his partner.

However, knowing anything he said against Paul would only fuel Nikki's determination, he left it alone, to end of its own accord. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him that if he always did that, one day something she had with someone he considered a waste of her time and _unsuitable, _well, something wouldn't end. He quelled the voice with more Bourbon and a false smile at the barmaid.

That little voice, that Alter-Harry, had apparently given the taxi driver Nikki's address, because he was standing outside her door now, heart thumping in his chest, world spinning before his eyes.

The doorbell seemed to ring forever.

When she opened it, she was wearing a short purple dress, legs descending endlessly from it, hair loosely curling over her shoulders. She surveyed him, eyes narrowing.

"Did you want something?"

"Nikki-" he slurred, leaning heavily on the doorframe, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Are you **drunk**, Harry?"

"Just-"

She rolled her eyes, "You'd better come in. Quickly. It's only eight in the evening, Harry… Paul's picking me

She rolled her eyes, "You'd better come in. Quickly. It's only eight in the evening, Harry… Paul's picking me up in half an hour…"

She ushered him through, closing the door behind him, pushing him into an armchair.

"Paul…" Harry turned the name over on his tongue, with great distaste, "I don't like Paul."

Nikki shook her head. "We're not having this conversation. No." She went to walk back into the bedroom, but he lunged out of the chair, catching her arm, nearly sending them both flying to the floor.

"You look beautiful." He hissed in her ear, taking delight in the goosebumps that spread across her skin, leaning into the heady scent of her perfume.

"Harry – what are you doing?" she was trying to smile at him, but he could hear the strain in her voice. He was twisting a blonde curl around his finger, staring at her intently, and she was gazing back up at him with those wide doe eyes.

"You're too good for him."

"What?" she took a step back, and he felt the loss acutely.

"Paul." He half-shouted, "You're better than him."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, another of his alter-egos was vowing never to drink again.

She was shaking her head, her eyes darkening with anger. "I told you to leave Paul alone, Harry – it's none of your business who I date!"

"The guy's a tosser, and he treats you like-"

"What are you evening doing, showing up at my place, drunk?" she was shouting now, "You should stop interfering-"

"- like you're a piece of meat, and he flirts with other women and he's… Nikki, he's an arse who wants you for one reason and-"

He eyes had turned even colder. "Harry, you're the one being an arse!"

"Well, I'm an arse that loves you, which is more than you can say for Paul." He said quietly, and the world stopped spinning.

Nikki's hand flew to her mouth, and she took another staggering step back from him, eyes wide.

Harry'd never sobered up so fast. For a long moment he simply stared back at her, looking for a way to negate what he had just said, desperately hoping there was a way he could take it back. But there was nothing. Everything had changed, instantly.

"I…I should go." He muttered, turning away from her unreadable, wide-eyed stare, and walking towards the door, his vision beginning to blur.

"You… You're just going to leave?" A shaky voice asked, and he spun back round.

"I… I…"

Nikki was shaking her head. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to say that, and then walk away."

Another impasse, another pause.

"I-"

"Did you mean it?"

"What?"

She gave him an exasperated look, and he took a step closer to her.

"Of course I did."

The stared at one another, like they were seeing each other as two completely different people, people they hardly knew at all.

"I'm sorry." He breathed, looking down, and noticing her toenails were painted the exact reddish-pink of he lips.

Another long silence, and then she took another step closer to him, forcing his eyes up.

"Harry, I-"

He held up a hand. "You don't have to say anything. I'm drunk-" though he was feeling concerningly sober, "- it won't mean anything tomorrow…"

She gave him a look he couldn't read. She was good at that. "Really?"

He wanted so badly to reach out and tuck the loose curl that was falling in front of her eyes behind her ear.

He found himself shaking his head.

"I have to make a phone call." She said, and maybe he still was a little drunk, because that didn't seem odd. She disappeared into the kitchen, and all he caught of her conversation was, "Paul? Hi… it's Nikki."

Was that the ghost of a smile on her face when she returned?

"I really should be going-" he started, but found a finger on his lips.

"How long?"

A deep breath. "Years."

Her smile widened. "I… I just ended things with Paul…"

Ok, he was definitely still drunk. He was having auditory hallucinations.

"What?"

That smile of hers, that look in her eyes – one day, they would kill him.

"You were such an arse-" So now he was really confused, "- but everything you said about Paul was true… and I guess… I guess I knew it really… I was just filling my time until… well, I guess…"

She was unbelievably adorable when she was trying to form a coherent sentence. He caught her drift and managed a slight smile before she closed the gap between them and fused her lips to his.

She tasted like nothing he could describe, and she was soft and light in his arms - his body, like a coiled spring, responded to every inch of her touch, and he found hands skimming over her bare back, realising with a jolt that she couldn't possibly be wearing a bra.

She gasped against his mouth, but pulled away, giving him a sardonic smile. "You taste like a brewery, Harry Cunningham. Go to bed."

He reached for her again, but she only laughed, kissing him chastely on the cheek.

"You're drunk. You can have the couch."

_It took him moments to remember, as he woke up, hangover pounding._

_Drinking… Nikki's apartment… Paul Kingsley… Nikki…_

Nikki Alexander was woken by lips against hers, and a warm body sliding into bed next to her. Harry tasted like toothpaste this time, and she smile against his mouth, pulling him closer. He pulled back, fiddling with her hair.

"Apparently I am a pretty forward drunk…" he whispered near her ears, in _that voice, _that low growl that drove her crazy.

Laughter exploded from her, that tantalising giggle he loved, as she pulled his lips to hers.

**Reviews are always much appreciated.**


End file.
